


Fool For You

by moonstruckbucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with an unhappy ending, Bucky isn't very nice, F/M, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Some self-deprecation/insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstruckbucky/pseuds/moonstruckbucky
Summary: You want Bucky, but Bucky wants somebody else.





	Fool For You

She’s funny. Her joke has Sam wheezing, Steve snorting, and Bucky chuckling. Even Nat has quirked a small grin. They’re so busy recovering their breath that no one sees the absolutely moon-eyed look Bucky directs at her.

Nobody but you.

It’s hard to ignore the rising bitterness in your throat as you sit on the couch, once ensconced in your novel until Sam began hooting like a broken trumpet, a result of  _her_  well-timed joke. Of course she’s funny. She has just about everything else going for her, including Widow’s respect, which is a national treasure all on its own.

She isn’t an Avenger, but she may as well be since she’s in the tower so much. It makes your stomach curdle. The super soldier at her side curls a loving arm around her shoulders, drops a kiss onto her hair, and the gesture has her beaming.

And Bucky looks about the same way you feel.

Because Bucky had to go and catch feelings for his best friend’s girl.

He thinks no one knows, but you’re his best friend. Of course you know. You know because he looks at her the same way you do him. You scoff quietly.

Cliches suck.

A weight drops onto the couch cushion beside you.

_Careful, Y/N. Green isn’t really your color._

Wanda. Normally you take issue with the fact that Wanda sometimes implants herself in your head, but other times, like now, you’re thankful for it. Explaining it to anyone else makes shame bubble up in your gut.

You give Wanda a single, meaningful glance before your gaze is ultimately drawn back over your shoulder. She, Cassandra, is in the middle of telling a story that has everyone’s rapt attention, Steve looking down at her fondly while it goes unnoticed that Bucky is doing the same. You’re not sure if he realizes he’s doing it, but considering he’s doing it in front of  _Widow_  tells you he isn’t.

A quick glance at Nat shows her eyes bouncing between Bucky and Cassandra. Ah, so it wasn’t missed by the scarily-observant super spy. She catches your eye next, an entire conversation being wordlessly spoken. You avert your gaze with a sigh and miss the quizzical little head tilt Nat gives.

When Cassandra’s laughter bubbles up again, you can’t stand it anymore. Wanda frowns up at you as you stand, finger tucked into your book to save your place. You leave the room, wincing as the laughter picks up again.

Inside the confines of your room, you abandon your book to sit on the floor at the foot of your bed, your back against the mattress and box spring. You never meant to be part of probably the stupidest cliche to ever exist, yet here you are. And like that stupid cliche, you have no idea how it even happened.

Somewhere along the path of Bucky’s re-self-discovery, you fell for the man he’d become. Not the Soldier, not the smooth talking ladies’ man of the 40s, but someone somewhere in between. More self-assured than he’s ever been, though not without his faults or his setbacks. Really, though, how could you  _not_ have seen this coming?

You sigh into the dark, knees propped up and elbows resting upon them so you can drop your head into your hands. It’s stupid—pathetic, really—how your mind automatically begins to compare you to Cassandra, regardless of the fact that she’s taken. It’s more so because she has Bucky’s full attention, that moon-eyed look solely meant for her that you so wish was directed at you.

You’re a teammate, his close friend, and it seems that’s all you’ll ever be to him. It hurts, coming to that conclusion, knowing you’re one of those girls unfortunately and unfairly destined to experience unrequited love. You laugh mirthlessly to yourself and shake your head, tangle your fingers in your hair and tug, just a little, just enough to ground you before your mind sucks you into a maelstrom of self-pity.

You know sooner or later you’ll have to come clean to Nat, if the perceptive redhead hasn’t already put it together. Wanda is your closest friend aside from Bucky, but Natasha’s scary wisdom beyond her years comes in handy, especially in the tough situations.

You can’t imagine a situation any tougher than this.

So it comes as no surprise as, the next morning, the Black Widow corners you in the kitchen. You don’t bother to hide; stubbornness is one of Nat’s lesser, but more prominent, qualities, and she’s patient as all get out. Instead, you lead her back to your bedroom and spill. She doesn’t interrupt, only listens intently with her head tilted in that feline manner she has.

“Well, that’s quite a predicament,” she notes when you finish. Grumbling unintelligibly, you suck down your coffee. She leans back on her hands beside you. “So I take it there is zero chance of you talking to Bucky about it?”

“Why would I?” you retort, but Nat isn’t offended. “The only thing that’ll accomplish is ensuring our friendship is toast. Burnt as fuck, crispy toast. Plus, I’m not really in the mood to be humiliated when he says he doesn’t return my feelings.”

“How do you know he wouldn’t?”

“Uh, hello, I know  _you_  of all people didn’t miss the absolute head-over-heels look he gave her yesterday.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s going to act on that. Steve would pummel him, and it would probably end their friendship.”

“Regardless, I’m not having that conversation with him. I’m just gonna…keep a lid on it and act as if nothing’s off.”

Nat scoffs and you shoot her a look. “Honey, even if I wasn’t me I wouldn’t miss the looks you give him when someone’s not looking.”

You open your mouth and then promptly shut it. Releasing a sigh, you rub your temples. “Okay, so then what do I do? If I pull away he’s going to know something’s up. He’s far too much like you.”

Nat, for once, is rendered clueless on how to proceed. Then, with an actual physical shake of her body, she says, “Okay, so you pretty much have three options. Option one, continue as normal, hide your feelings, be his best friend,  and ultimately, probably spontaneously combust because you’re keeping them down instead of letting them out. Option two, tell him, risk the chance that your friendship might change  _or_  Bucky will decide to  _pull his head out of his ass_  and not make moon-eyes at a taken woman, thus eventually falling in love with you and the two of you live happily ever after. Option three, you start dating.  _Outside_  the Tower. Run the risk that you’ll find someone who completes you instead of pining for a guy who might not.”

“That’s it, huh?” you deadpan. Truthfully, none of those options sounds appealing, but more than likely you’re going for option one.

Option one, it turns out, is a goddamn pain in the ass to stick to. In order to throw off Nat’s, and even Sam’s, suspicions that he’s into his best friend’s girl, Bucky has latched himself onto you. Normally, this would be, well,  _normal_. Now? It’s downright impossible to bite your tongue from telling him what’s been cooking up in your head, damn near inconceivable to not lean into him when he sits a little closer to you at movie night. 

The little niggling feeling in the back of your head tells you he has tricks up his sleeve, but you brush it off for now and bask in the slightly spice scent of his cologne.

Some weeks later, you’re faring no better. It’s growing even more difficult to bottle your feelings up and stow them in the back of your mind, especially when Bucky’s clinginess seems to multiply tenfold. You aren’t dumb, or naive for that matter, when you realize the only time he’s right on top of you is when Steve and Cassandra are present. When you first put it together, no words in the English dictionary are sufficient enough to describe the painful pang in your heart.

Yet you let it continue.

Nat criticizes you more than once, as does Wanda (who’s admittedly a bit gentler with her approach, but Nat was never one for beating around a bush). You promise both of them you’ll confront him soon, draw a line in the sand that he can’t use you to make his best friend’s girl jealous. 

Plus, his plan isn’t working anyways. Cassandra remains both in the dark and unaffected by what he’s doing, and she merely smiles genuinely when she notices Bucky’s arm around your shoulder or waist. As soon as she and Steve leave the room, his arm drops and his shoulders droop. It makes you angry, and it’s why you suddenly begin to dodge his advances. You stop playing along to his chagrin and befuddlement, and the fact that he’s even confused by your refusal to go along with it reignites your ire.

How dare he abuse your friendship, wordlessly expect you to go along with a pointless attempt to make Cassandra jealous? It’s callous and a little cruel of him; you thought you were  _friends_. Friends didn’t treat each other like toys or tools to just use at one’s convenience. Even more than that, with Bucky’s sudden attention on you all the time, as superficial as it is, it only intensifies your feelings for him—both the positive and the negative.

On the one hand, a large, secret part of you revels in being pressed up against him so often, absorbing his warmth and being able to pretend, for just a little while, that his feelings for you aren’t a scheme, that they’re genuine. The smaller, more logical part of you knows you can’t let this continue, and it finally all comes to a head when Bucky asks of you something so unbelievably selfish that you snap.

“I’m sorry, you want to  _what?_ ” you ask, turning your ear to him as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“We should sleep together,” he repeats with a careless shrug. He seems surprised when your gaze hardens and ignites all at once.

“Why? So you can continue your pointless scheme of trying to make Cassandra  _jealous_? Is that why?” you accuse icily. Bucky takes a small step back, mouth opening and closing similar to a fish as he searches for something to say. You beat him to it. “No, Bucky, I won’t sleep with you to go along with your stupid fucking plan of pursuing a  _taken woman_ , much less the woman who’s  _dating your best fucking friend_. I’m not stupid; I know what you’ve been doing, and I can’t even believe you would abuse our friendship like that,  _use me_  the way you have, without a second thought. Do my feelings mean absolutely nothing to you? Do you know how hard it’s been coming to grips with the fact that, while I struggle with my feelings, _for you_ , you only see me as something to use, something to exploit?”

Bucky’s face continues to fall as you rant, unleashing every pent up thought and emotion. Your voice covers a range of emotion—anger, sadness, hurt—all in a matter of seconds that he nearly has whiplash. Bucky’s always had a strong poker face, but even he can’t hide the feelings rolling through him. The one he settles on is shame.  _Good_.

“You…you have feelings for me?” he questions, quiet and meek.

You scoff. “Right now, I really wish I fucking didn’t. You aren’t who I thought you were, Bucky. Not even close. I was willing to let it go that you wouldn’t feel the same way for me, I’ve accepted that. What I won’t accept is being used as if our friendship means absolute  _shit_ to you.”

“No, honey, that’s not—” He stops when you shake your head, teeth clenched tightly and jaw wobbling as you fight to hold back your tears of hurt and heartbreak.

“It was what you were doing, Bucky, and I want no part of it. In fact, I think it’s better you and I don’t speak.”

Bucky looks crestfallen, regret and agony and the will to plead for your forgiveness swimming in his eyes. Bucky’s poker face was ace, but his eyes gave him away and you’d become an expert at reading them. Even if it’s not what he’d intended when he began this hairbrained plan, it’s what happened, and you had been caught in the crossfire.

“Ever?” he asks, a sob ripping from his throat while those pale eyes brim with tears. You glance away for a moment, but then you bravely meet his gaze, holding it.

“Ever,” you confirm. Your face remains stoic but inside your chest your heart splinters and cracks. It’s so painful to break off your most treasured friendship, but Bucky had taken advantage of you, whether or not he had been aware of your feelings. You voice this aloud. “I can accept you not returning my feelings, but I can’t forgive you for taking advantage of me. That’s not what friends do. Goodbye Bucky.”

The door closes softly in his face and Bucky leans his head against the wood, face crumbling as he lets himself go. How could he have been so stupid?


End file.
